Warriors of the Stone
by Jejuna
Summary: Two kingdoms, two ancient families, fight over one heir. What will happen when everyone mistakes Kagome for Kikyo? A story of the hopelessly entangled lives of two demon brothers and two miko sisters as they struggle for the power of the Shikon no Tama.
1. To Kill a Mockingtree

**DISCLAIMER:** All characters are property of Rumiko Takahashi. Any spark of originality is owed to her creative prowess and consequent inspiration.

The night was dark, the moon pale and light-less. No clouds hid the stars. A faint, washed out glow lit the paved road, and seemed to flicker as muffled footfalls broke the silence. A gust of wind almost drowned out the muted thuds, but not quite. The footfalls were faster now, more urgent; the air seemed tense, as though the world was holding its breath. The bushes on the side of the road rustled angrily, and a cursing, swearing bundle of flesh launched itself out of them.

"I'm going to burn down every single one of those damned bushes," muttered the projectile. The silhouetted figure straightened up, pulling thorns and stray foliage from its hair. She, for it was a girl, was not more than five feet tall. Cursing viciously, she whirled around to face the offending bushes and hissed impatiently, "Come on, we're going to be late."

A boy crawled out easily, looking calm and serene. He turned to the fuming girl and chuckled.

"You certainly took the fight out of that bush, Kagome, it didn't give me any trouble," he grinned, his teeth flashing white in the darkness.

"Aw, shut up. We're running late," snapped Kagome. It wasn't fair that he could move so gracefully, she thought sullenly. The boy, Miroku, began walking ahead of Kagome, seemingly unaffected by the darkness. He was a well-built lad with short, bristly black hair and piercing green eyes that glowed eerily in the watery moonlight. Kagome shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms. She shook her head mentally and told herself to snap out of it. Visibly stiffening her spine, she followed Miroku. As they neared a curve in the road, an unpleasant view presented itself to them. Stretching over a good acre or two, blending in with the desolate night, was a very unkempt backyard overgrown with weeds that threatened to spill out into the roadway. Kagome hesitated at the low brick wall running along the perimeter. _Was it really worth all that trouble? _Then she looked at Miroku, saw the thin, angry red scar running along his left arm and firmed her resolve. It _was_ worth it.

"I don't think we can just jump over that wall," whispered Miroku.

"I don't think so either," Kagome hissed back. "The bitter old hag probably has a barrier around the entire area."

"And you decided to not tell me this before because...?" asked Miroku, lifting an eyebrow.

"I thought you had it all figured out!"

"Well obviously I didn't."

"You little—"

"Shh! Now's not the time to be arguing."

"Don't cut me off!"

"_Shh_!"

Both children froze as a sharp _crack!_ echoed off the wall. They turned around slowly, but there was nothing behind them. Miroku scanned around him shrugged. The road was still empty and dark, its paved surface still gleaming with a ghostly moonlit sheen. _Something isn't right_, thought Kagome. The place shouldn't have been so unprotected. She shifted uncomfortably, the movement making her shadow flicker. There was no time, the sun would be up any minute. They had to get to that tree _fast_. She bit her lip as Miroku reached for the wall. Almost immediately he withdrew, his face showing nothing.

"What happened?" asked Kagome, anxiously. If they didn't get to the orange tree now there wouldn't be another chance. And if they got caught...Kagome let that thought trail off, not wanting to finish it.

"There _is_ a barrier," he replied quietly, holding up his hand. Kagome fought down a wave of nausea at the sight of the burnt, charred flesh. The smell of singed skin wafted along on a puff of wind, and she had to press the back of her hand against her mouth to keep from heaving. Eyes watering, she said hoarsely, "Let me do it." Her throat burned as bitter bile rose up, but she swallowed forcefully, wincing at the feel of acid slipping down her throat.

"Do what?" asked Miroku, confused. "The barrier'll burn you also if you touch it."

Kagome rolled her eyes. "I know that, idiot, I'm not stupid enough to get _my_ hand burned as well," she said.

Miroku raised an eyebrow. Kagome shrugged. Truth was, she had no idea how to get past the barrier. Kagome rubbed her chin thoughtfully. The barrier ran along the perimeter of the field. There were no visible breaks, no way to climb over its domed surface. Kagome glanced up at the sky. Time was running out. She made up her mind.

"Alright. This is what we're going to do," she announced. "You stay here, and I'll go all the way back there"—she twisted and nodded at the winding path they just took-"And run as fast as I can and go right through it." She nodded once. It was settled.

Miroku stared at her.

"You do realize that it's a _barrier_, right?" he asked incredulously. "You're not going to be able to just bulldoze your way in! Use your head for once!"

Kagome sighed. They were wasting time. In her mind, the only way to find out was to try.

"I don't think the barrier'll prevent me from going in. I think it just burns anyone who tries. If I pretended that it was an open flame and ran through it, I might be able to make it to the other side," she said, already walking back along the road.

Miroku humphed, but didn't say anything. He stood to the side, arms folded across his chest, waiting.

Kagome took a deep breath, crouching low. She closed her eyes for a second and... took off. Clouds of dust mushroomed as she ran, feet pounding on the paved surface of the road. The barrier was a pale blue, but it seemed to get darker as she got nearer. Kagome gulped as the crackling energy singed the hair on her arms. Breath coming in gasps, she jumped over the low fencing, plowing through the translucent shield. The moment she made contact with the sparking barrier, she felt a sharp sting. Her nostrils flared at the smell of burning flesh, followed by a loud _thud! _that jarred her. Kagome gasped as she fell to her knees on the other side of the barrier. A dark, thick wetness stained the ground, dampening her knees where they rested on the mud. Shaking her head to get rid of the sizzling sound, she stood up. Almost immediately she slid to the earth again- the movement had brought on a wave of dizziness so strong she could almost hear her surroundings spin. She winced. Her chest felt like her ribs had caved in. Setting her teeth against the bite of pain, she gingerly pushed herself off the ground. Her left foot dragged slightly as she staggered over to a gigantic orange tree. Reaching behind her, she pulled out a catapult, its handle worn and grooved where her fingers pressed into the soft wood. The tree was enormous, taller than a castle minaret, its trunk as wide as five well-fed men. Glossy green leaves, silver now because of the moonlight, spread out in a ghostly canopy for almost ten feet in each direction. A shiver ran down Kagome's spine even as a nervous sweat broke out on her forehead. This was the moment that she'd been waiting for- to avenge Miroku, to outwit the old hag Urasue. For every whiplash that Urasue had delivered, for every cut that she and Miroku received, Urasue would pay.

"I'll kill you, you old witch," she breathed, eyes fixed on the maze of wooden tentacles at the foot of the tree. One well-placed cut, and the tree would die, and with it all of Urasue's power. Kagome hobbled over to the tree, trembling with excitement. Nestled between a tangled mass of snaking roots, looking like a lump of charcoal, was the root she sought. It's always either the youngest, or the smallest or the weakest that is most protected, she thought. If this protection could be broken, then nothing else could stand a chance. Carefully aiming the catapult, she hurtled a Sama at her target, and watched in satisfaction as the wood snapped like an over-stressed bow and unraveled.

One second passed. Two.

Kagome held her breath.

_Thwack!_ Kagome dropped to the ground and threw her arms over her head. All around her, pumpkin-sized oranges rained and exploded, spewing arcs of bright orange. Kagome gasped as a particularly swollen fruit slammed into her back. She thought she heard someone say her name; blinking to clear off the splotches of white blotting her vision, she peeked through her arms and saw Miroku waving madly. He seemed to be yelling something out to her, but it was lost in the roar of crashing fruit. Kagome slowly drew herself up, her whole body going rigid with pain. Arms still over her head, she bolted to the fence, groaning inwardly as she approached the barrier. This is going to hurt tomorrow, she thought as she dove into the sizzling blue wall. She gasped sharply, too breathless to curse, and exhaled painfully as darkness enveloped her.

Miroku watched in horror as Kagome plunged into the transparent blue shield. She was injured, blood staining her clothes, drizzling everywhere as she ran. He yelled at her to stop-it would kill her to get burned again. He stared, transfixed, as her limp form hit the ground with a hollow thud, rolling lifelessly toward a clump of bushes.

"Kagome!" he bellowed, praying that she was still alive. There was no way he could explain her death to anyone at the castle. Stubborn girl! Why didn't she ever listen?

His heart sank as he approached her, mentally flinching at the torn, mangled flesh on her arms and legs. Fighting the urge to gag, he bent and slid his arms beneath her unconscious body, hefting it into the air. Behind him, the oranges continued to fall, the dull sounds of impact muffled by the barrier. Miroku wondered how long it would be before Urasue and her guards came to investigate; a part of him was surprised that nobody had arrived already.

A burly, muscled guard paced the balcony of the Western Tower, silhouetted against the moonlit sky. His hands were held rigidly behind his back, his shoulders broad and tense. The sound of shuffling feet echoed in the silent air. The guard broke stride, disappearing from the balcony for a couple of seconds and reappearing at the bottom of the tower. He paused in front of a child carrying someone and folded his arms over his chest.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice deep and commanding.

"She got burned" came the curt reply.

"Oh, I see that, young master," the guard drawled lazily. "What I want to know is why you're covered in glowing orange slime."

"I order you to let me in, Hamed, or my father shall hear about this!" demanded Miroku, knowing that he sounded pitifully desperate.

Hamed snorted. "I really don't think you want your father to hear about this, young master."

Miroku glared at the smiling guard, hobbling around him and vanishing into the darkness of the tower's stairwell. Hamed turned to stare at the boy's retreating back. The girl, Kagome, bothered him. Her body was charred and ravaged, but her expression was one of content, of an almost savage satisfaction. He repressed a shudder. The girl was trouble. A reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the same expression on another girl's face.

"Warriors," he whispered, unheard in the night. Shaking his head, he headed back into the tower, gently pulling the heavy door close behind him. The dusty stairs creaked under his weight as he slowly ascended them, trying to come up with a way to separate the girl from Miroku. So far, nothing came to mind. Low voices drifted down from the room above.

"The burns shouldn't take that long to heal," said an old, wizened voice. "That orange juice has healing properties. I assume it came from Lady Urasue's garden?"

"None of your business," snapped Miroku, annoyed.

"If you say so, young master," came the reply. Miroku growled irritably at the old man's smiling tone. Hamed chuckled as he heard Miroku stomping in frustration at Mushin's calmness. Mushin had that effect on people, he thought as he reached the top of the stairs. Outside, dawn was approaching. Hamed sighed. He would have to go and sound the gong in about ten minutes. It was the part of the day he hated most; forcing people from the safety of their dreams was not something he cherished. But someone had to do it, and he'd rather be the one doing the awakening than be the one woken. He paused at the doorstep of the first room in the circular landing, where the voices were coming from. Miroku sat with his legs folded and his back against the far wall, facing the door and glowering at Mushin, who was bent over an oblivious Kagome.

"Ah, Hamed! Good to see you lad," Mushin said, turning as he straightened up. He flashed a toothy smile at the hulking figure standing by the door.

"Same here, healer," responded Hamed, grinning. From his post at the wall, Miroku scowled blackly. Why did the stupid old man keep wasting time?

"How long for the bones to heal?" Hamed asked curiously. Strange...the girl seemed to heal extraordinarily fast. The burns had almost completely disappeared.

"About a day or two, at most." said Mushin, shuffling towards a cabinet by the door. For a man of advanced years, he moved surprisingly well-only a slight drag in his left foot gave any indication of impairment.

"As you can see, the orange juice is a healing salve."

"Is it from Lady Urasue's tree?" inquired Hamed innocently, shooting Miroku a knowing glance. Sure enough, Miroku jumped to his feet, his face red and furious.

"I'll be back in two days. If she's not better by then, you'll suffer, I swear," he seethed, storming towards the door.

"Woah, lad! Not so fast!" Hamed caught Miroku's sleeve as the boy tried to sweep past him. "I think you owe us all an explanation."

Miroku kicked and wrenched at his sleeve. "I owe you nothing!", he screamed. Hamed let go of the boy's sleeve and grabbed his arm instead, fingers making a full circle around the limb and then some.

"OW! That hurts, you-"

"Details, if you please, young master," said Hamed quietly, no longer smiling. Through the tiny window, he could see guards swarming the courtyard. The gong sounded, offensively loud in the peaceful morning air. Hamed winced, he'd forgotten about the wake up call. Whoever had had to ring the gong was probably cursing him right now. He would have to find a way to make it up to that man.

"So," said Hamed heavily, thick black eyebrows rising almost to his hairline. "Does the magic orange juice on you and your girlfriend over there-" he nodded at Kagome- " have anything to do with the guards down _there_?" he asked, jerking his free hand towards roiling mass of gray fifty feet below. Miroku's answer was a blacker scowl and a savage kick to his captor's shin.

In the far corner of the room, Mushin finished taping up Kagome's ribs and started walking over to where Miroku stood struggling wildly.

"Tell us, lad. We need to know," he said gently, looming over the irate prince. The old healer slid a bony finger under Miroku's chin and tipped the boy's head backwards, forcing him to look up. "Such injuries are not commonplace. What did you do?" This time, there was a hint of steel in the old man's words.

Miroku stopped struggling. Something in the set of Mushin's jaw set a snake of discomfort crawling up his spine.

He sighed, shrugging off Hamed's now slack grip.

"Kagome wanted to get back at Urasue for the last time she whipped me," he said resignedly. Hamed and Mushin exchanged puzzled glances.

"I'm not sure I understand...why did she whip you?" asked Mushin, confused. Lady Urasue was the oldest healer in the kingdom of Edo, and consequently demanded respect. True, she wasn't the most affable person on earth, but she surely wouldn't _whip_ a child without reason!

"I don't know, she just really hates me. She thought I was stealing oranges from her stupid tree, and I told her it wasn't me but she wouldn't listen and she whipped me and Kagome tried to stop her and she hit Kagome also and-" the words came pouring out.

"Wait, master Miroku. Are you sure _Kagome_ hadn't been stealing the oranges?" The question came from Hamed this time. Mushin looked at him with raised eyebrows. Hamed pretended not to see.

Miroku didn't respond for a long moment. When he spoke, it was with a forced calm. Clearly enunciating each syllable he said, "Kagome. Doesn't. Lie."

"But how-"

"Anyway," Mushin cut across Hamed. The guard glared at the healer, who deliberately ignored him. "How exactly did she 'get back' at Lady Urasue?"

"She killed her precious tree," said Miroku, a savage smile creeping slowly across his face ."I hope it kills the old hag."

Mushin was horrified. "The Goshinboku!" he squeaked, his voice strangled. The color drained from his face; he looked almost comical, standing there with rounded eyes and his jaw slack. The old physician was almost hysterical. Hamed, on the other hand, was mildly impressed. He'd never really liked the cold Wise woman, but was forced to respect her- he couldn't help but feel a rush of guilty satisfaction at Miroku's words. However, he let nothing show on his face as he looked at Miroku sternly. Miroku glared back belligerently, his green eyes glinting like blades of sunlit grass.

"Pull yourself together, Mushin, it's not as though you could've ever gotten your hands on it," he said to the gaping man. Mushin looked at him disbelievingly for a moment and then shuffled off in disgust to sit on the cot beside Kagome's.

Hamed snorted. "You know I'm right, old man, what are you looking at me like that for?"

"That's not the point. The point is that the Goshinboku is legend. You can't just_ kill_ it!" Mushin spluttered indignantly, amazed that no one seemed to understand the value of the divine tree. Mushin, like all healers, had grown up listening to tales of the God Tree. The tree couldn't be _dead_, it just...couldn't.

Miroku rolled his eyes and Hamed opened his mouth to deliver a sarcastic "Well, there's nothing you can do about it now, is there?", when a rude clanging erupted into the early morning air, pounding relentlessly against protesting ears.

"Uh-oh," whispered Miroku, his entire body going icily numb with fear. The bell marked the start of a thief-hunt.


	2. When Blizzards Strike

DISCLAIMER: All characters are property of Rumiko Takahashi. Any spark of originality is owed to Ms. Takahashi's inspirational creativity.

The king paced like a caged lion, his polished black heels clip-clopping against the wooden floorboards. He was furious. Across the room two black-clad figures huddled in the corner. Miroku's father sighed inwardly. His son, Miroku, standing with his head bowed like a criminal! It was unthinkable! Yet there he was, hunched and guilty, refusing to meet his sire's eyes. The girl is to blame for this, he thought bitterly. It had been a generous gesture, accepting the child as his own, but she was wild, untamed. Sanya, his wife, the High Queen of Edo had been nearly reduced to tears in trying to civilize the girl. Nothing appealed to the black-haired vixen. Despite himself, Miroku's father shivered as he imagined Kagome's eyes; like bits of blistering coal they were. Everything about her was unnatural. No good deed went unpunished, he thought wryly. Turning abruptly, mid-stride, he walked to the tall, gilded window, and stared out at the reddish sky. The sun was sinking like his heart as he decided on how to punish them.

"You know what you did was wrong," he said quietly. The words fell like lead weights in the silence. Miroku shifted uncomfortably. Kagome just glared.

"I heard you wanted revenge, did you not?" he asked lightly. Miroku's father was being cautious. True, as a king he could simply order for Kagome to be exiled and forgive his son, but he was an honorable ruler. He would make sure that both the girl and the boy learned their lesson.

"I will not have you whipped," he said, turning to face the children. Kagome and Miroku exchanged delighted glances, secret smiles blossoming like roses on their pink lips.

"However, you _will _be punished. It takes a lot of courage to break into a healer's home. It takes more than courage to try and kill a legend—that is sheer arrogance. Did you really think you'd be able to destroy it?" he asked.

The smiles faded from their faces as both children realized, with dread, that the king had something much worse in store for them.

"You," said Miroku's father, pointing a heavily ringed, accusing finger at Miroku. "You will follow the huntsmen and bring me the head of the man-eater that has been attacking the children at the northeastern end." Miroku paled visibly, thinking of the unknown beast that had been feasting on unsuspecting islanders. Hamed had said something about giant paw-prints unlike any he'd seen before. Given that Hamed was one of the most experienced hunters in the kingdom, the task didn't inspire hope. Something in Miroku's expression must have revealed his distress, because the king drew in a sharp breath through his nose and, nostrils flaring, barked, "Are you afraid, boy?"

Miroku shook his head mutely, his mind still on the daunting task awaiting him beyond these doors. Miroku's father snorted humorlessly and spun on his polished black heel to glare at Kagome.

"I believe _you_ are the reason my son has taken to midnight vandalism?" he spat venomously. Kagome merely looked at him with polite interest, as though he were an irate swordsman brandishing an empty sheath. The king's face turned a peculiar shade of mottled purple at Kagome's response, or lack of it. The girl was infuriating! She was like a statue, immovable and stony, blazing passionately when the sun rays hit and becoming cold when the night set in. Nothing in her manner betrayed regret—on the contrary, she seemed to have been prepared for the consequences, and now stood almost eagerly braced for any punishment that would, inevitably, come her way.

Miroku's father scratched at the stubble on his chin, the corners of his mouth turned downwards and pulled his face into a calculating frown. Kagome watched him warily, disliking the look of savage satisfaction that settled in the king's expression. Heart sinking, she peeked at him through the fringe of black hair that lay over her eyes like a downy raven's wing.

"You will bring me the man-eater's mate," he stated. His voice boomed like a war-drum; Kagome shivered as an awful sense of foreboding overcame her. Unconsciously, she shook her head, silently telling herself that things could've been a lot worse. Unfortunately for her, the king misinterpreted her physical actions as defiance.

Glowering, he said, "Alive."

Kagome looked at him uncomprehendingly for a second, and then the enormity of the task hit her: an twelve-year old girl against a gigantic, unknown beast. Like slow-acting poison, fear spread wetly beneath her skin, soaking it and bleeding colorlessly into her clothes. The king smirked. However, his eyes, the same as Miroku's but tempered by years of war and kingship, greenly shone with worry. Kagome had an aura of command about her, it troubled him greatly that as king even _he_ could not help but feel intimidated by this child with her bottomless black eyes.

He turned to face the window again, waving his hand loosely as though to slap away the image of her innocent, mischievous eyes. He listened for a while to the fading footfalls and was reflecting idly about the encounter when unwittingly floated across his mind the phrase "like bits of burning coal."

Kagome tugged at the frayed ends of the gray woolen shawl that sat on her shoulders. An icy wind bit at her cheeks, nipping her nose and numbing it. A chilling blanket of air wound itself around her, burning her skin beneath the shawl. Kagome scrunched up her eyes to squint into the blinding whiteness that surrounded her, the morning sun was lost under a veil of fog and snow. The wind was no longer invisible—powdery flakes of snow defined the wild, ever-changing loops and twirls of the winter wind. Through the haze of the blizzard, a furry beast ambled towards her, its raised hackles snatching snowflakes from the swirling streams. Kagome slowly reached behind her and grabbed her bow. She swung the heavy wooden frame in a sharp arc, her left hand simultaneously drawing an arrow from her quiver. The beast squealed as Kagome notched the arrow and took aim. She halted in surprise as the creature raised its front paws in a gesture of surrender and said, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Kagome blinked, her frozen eyelashes scraping against her cheekbone. For a moment, no sound was heard except for the wailing of the angry wind. Then she burst out laughing, rolling about in the downy snow, crying tears of mirth which froze seconds after they fell, on her cheeks, on the ground. Miroku looked down at her from under his bear-skin coat, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to throttle her. In the end, he snorted and plopped down beside Kagome, who was now lying spreadeagled on the frozen ground.

"I thought you were the man-eater," she said.

"I am," said Miroku, smilingly.

"Mighty small man-eater you are."

"I'm still bigger than you," he leered.

"I'm faster," she said, offended. She puffed out her cheeks and held in the air to warm her tongue.

"I'm better with a sword," he taunted. Kagome blew out a stale breath which immediately formed a silver cloud in front of her face. "That's because you've been training," she said wistfully. Miroku's father and Sanya had decided that Kagome was too rambunctious to be a level-headed warrior. While Miroku was placed under the care of the kingdom's most reputed sword-master, Kagome had been entrusted to the Queen's lady-in-waiting so that she could 'learn to be a lady'. Kagome shuddered at the thought of returning to her mundane life as an apprentice to a servant—in her mind anyone who was not a warrior was a servant. Maybe being killed by the man-eater wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Did you find any tracks?" she asked after a moment. It was nice to relieve tension by lounging in the snow,

but they had a task to accomplish, and it wasn't going to get done if they just lay there doing nothing.

"I think I saw paw-prints leading this way, that's why I was heading towards you," said Miroku casually.

"You WHAT?" Kagome jumped to her feet, livid.

"Do you have moss in your ears? I said—."

"_I heard what you said!_"

"Why're you yellin'?"

Kagome took a deep breath. "You're an idiot," she said flatly. The sky darkened above their heads, and a splatter of iced rain pelted them suddenly. Kagome flinched as the clouds peppered the ground with hail-stones. Extremely annoyed and jittery from Miroku's information, she grabbed his arm roughly and yanked him to his feet.

"We need to get out of here," she said urgently, pulling at Miroku's furry sleeve. He stumbled as he shot to his feet, arms covering his face and head as the hail-storm escalated.

"If we can surprise the monster, we might stand a chance," he shouted, struggling to make himself heard over the roar of the blizzard.

Kagome squinted into the screens of rain and ice. A mud-trail led into the foothills of the mountains and wound around the sloped sides—the path stood out darkly like a black snake against the whiteness. Grabbing her bow and arrows, she motioned for Miroku to follow, and the two children ran through the icy assault to the winding trail.

"You know what I think?" yelled Miroku.

"How can _I_ know what _you_ think?" Kagome yelled back.

"I think that the gods is out to get us, is what I think," he panted. They had reached the foothills—a few more feet and the mountain caves would shelter them from the storm.

"What's a 'gods'?" asked Kagome, curiously.

"You know, the kings up in the sky who like to throw things at us when they get angry? Them," he wheezed. The hill was starting to get steeper.

Kagome looked at him strangely. "No one ever told me about kings like that," she ground out breathlessly. A couple more feet...

"They live forever, and they watch everything we do. If we're bad, they send down death-pellets, like now," he said earnestly. He sounded like a toddler reciting a favorite bed-time story.

Kagome nodded absentmindedly. A flicker of movement behind a fuzzy boulder on the hill slope had captured her attention.

"And when they're sad, they cry, that's why water falls from the sky,"Miroku sang from memory, oblivious to Kagome's discomfort.

All around them the gale raged more fiercely, a wild, animal being. Alarmed, Kagome screwed up her eyes to peer into the icy curtain of hail-stones. Dully, she felt the impacts of shards of ice as they slammed into the exposed skin on her face. She turned to look at Miroku, whose lips were moving in his animated face (either he did not know or he did not care that his words were lost in the roar of the wind). The boy's face was a grotesque sight beneath his bear-head hood, smeared with blood from the many cuts and bristling with glittering spears of embedded ice.

"The beast'll run away, you're so ugly," sniggered Kagome, momentarily forgetting her worry.

Miroku looked offended—the glassy porcupine on his face shuddered as he scowled. "You look like a thorn bush," he snapped. "A _frozen_ thorn bush."

Kagome opened her mouth to retort (probably to tell Miroku how much he resembled a pin-cushion), but snapped her jaw shut as the ground trembled violently. The world spun dizzyingly, white sky crashing over gray earth while trees and feet and whitened rocks tumbled over each other and hung from the bleached clouds. A dark head crept into her field of vision and eclipsed her view.

"Get up," said Miroku. Kagome stared in fascination at his upside-down face, his single pink unseeing eye blinking repeatedly as it presented words and chattering teeth.

"Did you feel that?" asked Kagome excitedly, somersaulting backwards and springing to her feet.

"Yeah, I felt it," said Miroku distractedly. Behind the barrage of hail there was distinct movement, separate from the dancing wind. It was a horizontal shuffling, too heavy to be natural. Kagome climbed up the sleeted path, cutting twin furrows into the thigh-high snow and stood behind Miroku. Holding up her hand against her forehead to shield her eyes against the snow, she craned her neck. She saw nothing but the whirlwinds of snow.

"I don't see anything Miroku," she said, alarmed. "D'you?"

Miroku didn't answer, his gaze was fixed on a spot far away in the distance. His eyes flashed like green glass and he stood stiffly, frozen like the stones around him. Kagome shook his shoulder impatiently and he turned—slowly, cautiously, as though he was at sword-point. He looked at Kagome blankly, his brow beaded with crystallized sweat.

"Don't move," he whispered. The wind no longer howled, it screeched—a high-pitched wail that rent the air.

A chill that had nothing to do with the cold air numbed Kagome's body from head to toe and she blinked away snowflakes desperately from her eyes. Behind Miroku, one of the snow-covered boulders was moving. Kagome and Miroku stood facing each other, each looking over the other's shoulder, both petrified by the sight that presented itself to them.

"It's a bear," they whispered in sync. "The man-eater is a bear."

A low, bloodcurdling snarl reached their ears, from both behind them as well as from the front, and the two children reacted. Miroku, already made wooden by cold and fear, splintered and bolted sideways into the scattered rocks of the rugged mountain slope. Kagome, fearful but alert, knew instinctively that if she showed any sign of weakness, the bears would attack. Unfortunately for her both bears ignored Miroku, who was now scampering towards a hole in the rock face. His feet flailed helplessly as the footholds gave way, showering Kagome and the bears with stones and dirt. Somehow he managed to haul himself to the opening of the cave—he heaved, pushing off of a crumbling boulder and tumbled head-first into the safety of the stony hollow.

Kagome's heart sank as she realized that she was completely alone with the two monsters. The bears circled her slowly, their claws clicking against the hard ground. Suddenly, Kagome was filled with a terrible rage, an unbearable fury at Miroku for abandoning her. She heard, as though from a great distance, the heavy pounding of flesh against earth, the mad panting of a ravenous beast. Her eyes were of little use to her, she decided coolly and closed her eyes; her fear had melted in the furnace of her wrath. Sensing that the bear in front of her was not going to move, Kagome whirled to face the charging bear, her right hand reached for the sword strapped to her left hip. Her body settled into a crouch, mimicking a rattlesnake about to strike. Tense, blind and furious, Kagome drew her blade so swiftly that the air rushed in like a cloudy breath to fill the vacuum that her actions had created. The ground beneath her feet trembled like an autumn leaf; a hot, smelly breath momentarily thawed her frozen face and Kagome struck.

Miroku peered over the Sama ledge of the entrance to the cave. Some distance below him, Kagome was standing stock still with her head bowed as though in defeat. A terrible dread filled Miroku, guilt mingled with fear—fear that had nothing to do with the bears circling Kagome.

"C'mon, c'mon, _c'mon_," he muttered urgently under his breath as the wintry shadow behind Kagome rushed her. "_Move_."

His eyes widened as Kagome turned, so fast that he missed the movement, and lunged at the bear. He stared, transfixed, as she spun and twirled like a dancer, her raven locks billowing like a black cape around her. How long she fought Miroku did not know. He could only watch in morbid fascination as her blade rose and fell, again and again, its dangerous glint cutting through the blizzard haze and blinding him repeatedly. The snow around her bled, a slow spreading circle of wet crimson swallowing the ground as Kagome continued to slash. The other bear didn't seem to be able to move either—it shifted once and blended into the rocks again.

A low whine wafted upto Miroku's ears and he spun around violently, startled. He blinked furiously to adjust his eyes to the sudden gloom of the cave. Nervously, he inched into its depths, the fingers on his left hand trailing on its dusty walls, leaving shallow grooves. Another whimper sounded, this time louder and closer.

"_Ungh,_" Miroku grunted as he tripped and fell face-first onto the hard earth. Coughing convulsively and brushing soot and gray powder from his hair and face, Miroku straightened up. A pathetic snuffling at his feet grabbed his attention and he looked down. Smiling, he bent down to pick up the source.

It had stopped snowing. Kagome rammed her sword into the earth and slumped, hands holding desperately onto the hilt and eyes squeezed tightly shut. The world seemed to be swaying around her. She sucked in a sharp breath, surprised to find herself gasping for air. Why was she so tired? In and out, she slid in and out of focus, in and out of consciousness. Vaguely she heard a heavy grunt behind her, followed by an unmistakeable snort of rage. The ground beneath her knees shuddered as the quiet grunts escalated into a full-blown rumble.

Suddenly, she snapped out of her weary trance. She was under attack, tired and almost defenseless. No options, no allies, no decoys. No friends, she thought bitterly. There were no friends in battle. Slowly, as though rising from a happy slumber, her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked reflexively as the white glare bleached her vision. Eventually, a red haze bled through the whiteness, and for the first time Kagome saw the damage she had done. She was kneeling in a pool of lightly steaming blood, a creeping red shadow which led to a mangled white boulder that lay sprawled untidily across the land. The rock was painted carefully, glistening strokes of pink and brown and red that danced when the "boulder" shifted. Before she could fully comprehend the enormity of her actions, she felt the other bear begin to move. Kagome shook, more from exhaustion than from fear as the thundering beats grew louder. Once again she turned wearily, knowing that this time she would not win. Still, she thought, better to fight and lose than lose without a fight.

Twenty feet, thought Kagome mechanically, eighteen, sixteen, fourteen...She turned her blade so that it was pointing straight at her target and waited for the bear to close in on the last few feet. A blur of silver-gray jarred her concentration—from the corner of her eye she could see the ball of movement head towards her. Another one? she thought, confused. Forcibly she turned her attention to the battle at hand, intending to shove her blade into the beast as soon as it was within range.

She didn't have to.

Standing with his back to her, his gray coat fluttering gently in the wind was Miroku. Kagome stared at his back for a moment, her blood still boiling from the heat of battle, and she struggled to understand the sudden shift in the situation. Almost touching Miroku was the bear, its black eyes glittering madly and its mouth foaming. It seemed almost...afraid? Puzzled, Kagome stood up on her toes to look over Miroku's shoulder. The boy seemed to be cradling something white and furry in his hand. The fuzzball twitched, and all of a sudden Kagome realized what Miroku was holding. A brilliant smile broke on her face, teeth shining like pearls behind a layer of gore and grime. Glancing at the bear to make sure that it wasn't going to attack, she flung her arms around Miroku's shoulders, hugging him as tightly as she could, all her anger having dissipated. The bear growled when the impact caused the cub to jolt slightly, but almost immediately subsided.

Cautiously, so as not to agitate the bear, Kagome whispered into Miroku's ear, "That's why you ran away—you knew the bear would follow without trouble if we had the cubs." Miroku shivered as Kagome's warm breath tickled his ears.

"You knew the bears had cubs, didn't you?" She breathed, almost in awe. "Next time, tell me before you take off like that, okay?"

Miroku didn't have the heart to correct her.

* * *

Author's note: Any reviews are appreciated. I can't assess how much you like my story unless you tell me. If you find it boring or too twisted or too verbose, I'd like to know about it. :-) 3


	3. Burning Bridges Down

DISCLAIMER: All characters are property of Rumiko Takahashi. Any spark of originality is owed to Ms. Takahashi's inspirational creativity.

Kagome stood at the edge of the cliff staring off into the sunset. Evenings were bittersweet for her. It seemed as though the sun reluctantly relinquished his hold on the sky, bleeding into the air till the darkness of sleep overtook him. Kagome had always felt an inexplicable connection with the sun—it seemed to mirror her emotions. The sun rose when she rose, blazed when she played in the afternoon heat, and grudgingly faded into dreams when she slept. Today, she stood gazing into the dying gold of the evening sky, her heart sinking like the setting sun. Three years ago, on this day, she and Miroku had knelt at the exact spot that her feet occupied now and had bowed in silence as two leather whips bit into their tender backs. She remembered as though it were yesterday the rage on the king's face when he realized that Kagome had killed the man-eater and Miroku had brought home its mate—exactly the opposite of what he had ordered them to do. His son had appeared a coward, incapable of killing, and Kagome defiant. His trusted spies had told him of the children's deception, and he had sentenced them to fifty whiplashes each.

Kagome sighed. The scars on her back remained, the memory of pain still haunted her, but the kingship had passed. Tonight, the kingdom of Edo would name their leader from among the ten eligible heirs. Deep in her heart she knew that she would never inherit the throne—she was only fifteen years old, still a child, an orphan and above all else, a girl. Miroku, with any luck, would be the queen's first choice, but the hardhearted widow could just as easily choose from among her knights.

The sun finally disappeared behind the deep blue horizon line of the sea. A lone star twinkled in the gray patch of sky that had not been swallowed by thunder clouds.

"You look worried," said an amused voice behind her. She turned dutifully to look at the source.

"And how would you know how I looked like? My back was to you," she said smilingly, walking over to where Miroku stood, leaning lazily against a tree.

He looked over his shoulder briefly, scanning the tree line and beyond, checking the forest for threats. Satisfied that they weren't going to be attacked or spied on, he peeled himself off the trunk and turned sideways to face Kagome.

"I don't want to be king," he said gravely, picking at the skin of his thumb. Kagome didn't say anything, but her lips thinned disapprovingly.

"Why?" she asked finally. It seemed ridiculous to her that anyone would _refuse_ an offer of kingship. "Not that you're _going_ to be king, you're too stupid."

"Very funny," he snapped. A faraway look crept into his eyes and he said, almost dreamily, "I lived for sixteen years with my father. I didn't enjoy one moment of it." His voice hardened. "Kings are too cold, too hard. They start off as men, but they slowly turn to Sama," he said. "I don't want to be like my father. I will never be a king."

His voice had taken on a note of defiance, a ring of bitterness, as though he was voicing all the hate and suffering that he had held in his heart and let fester for sixteen years.

"You're wrong," Kagome said softly. She'd turned away from Miroku, her hands falling limply to her sides. "Your father wasn't cruel, he was honest," she mumbled. Raising her voice, she said, "_You_ many never be a king, but someday I'll be queen. When you're a king or queen you can change things that you don't like, you can—"

"You can hurt your family and friends and nobody can stop you," he spat. Kagome simply shrugged, not looking at him.

"Let's not fight, okay? I don't want to be alone and angry when I'm not chosen to be the new ruler," she flashed Miroku an impish smile and he snorted.

"Weakling," he sneered. Then he sighed and sat down, pulling Kagome down with him so that the two children sat curled up into each other against the tree.

"I'm scared," whispered Kagome after a moment, snuggling into Miroku's warm black sweater. Miroku's grip around her shoulder tightened and he mumbled an incoherent response.

"There's something strange in the air, something...well, not exactly evil, but something _different_," Kagome struggled to find the right word to describe the metallic scent that had assaulted her senses a few hours ago. It had smelt like a bloody, rusty blade, only a thousand times stronger. She had felt distinctly a wave of bloodlust on the wind, but the smell had disappeared as quickly as it had come. She had dismissed it from her thoughts then, but now, with the coronation only a few hours away, she felt that same excitement color the air.

"Don't you feel it?" she asked, irritated at his lack of interest.

"Nope," he drawled. She punched his arm lightly.

"Something bad's going to happen, Miroku, I can _feel_ it," she insisted. A shiver crawled up her spine and she jumped as the grass around them suddenly leaned against the flow of wind.

BOOM!

Kagome and Miroku shot to their feet, frantically looking around.

BOOM!

The ground shuddered and Miroku pitched violently, grabbing Kagome's arm to steady himself.

BOOM!

The pounding of the drums escalated into a thundering drum-roll—loud whooping erupted into the still night air.

"That's not the summons for the ceremony," said Miroku looking down at something by his feet. Kagome nodded, her eyes fixed on a spot to the far left, beyond the cover of the forest, below the jutting face of the cliff, where a tiny yellow flicker had appeared.

"That's a fire," she whispered.

"What?" asked Miroku distractedly. He was kneeling on the ground with his hand in a small puddle of water, feeling for vibrations in the mud.

A shrill ululation sounded right behind the children, and Miroku straightened up gingerly, his heart thudding unevenly in fear.

"We're too easy to see, we need to hide," said Kagome briskly, walking backwards cautiously till her back touched a tree trunk.

"Do you know what's happening?" asked Miroku nervously. He shuddered when the drum-roll rose to a raucous crescendo. He could almost _feel_ evil eyes on his back. Unable to withstand the tension, he twirled around viciously, and Kagome shushed him in alarm.

"We need to get back to the citadel," whispered Miroku urgently. Maybe the castle would be a safer place. But that's ridiculous, he thought immediately. If this was an ambush or revolt, the first place to be attacked would be the castle. Suddenly realization hit him hard, and he gasped as his head reeled.

"My mother," he breathed. "My mother's in the castle." An absolution settled like a lead weight in his stomach, a finality that rang like a death knell.

"She'll be fine, she has all her knights around her," Kagome's voice broke through his black haze like a torch on a winter night. Miroku's eyes widened and he breathed in shallow gasps. Kagome made up her mind when she saw the raw fear in his eyes—the fear of failure, the fear of helplessness. She grasped the cuff of his sweater and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "When I say 'go', run as fast as you can through the forest. Don't go to the trail, they'll be watching it, cut through the trees."

Miroku nodded, still looking dazed and breathless. Kagome squeezed his hand in sympathy. "It'll be okay," she murmured. Again the boy nodded, a wooden acknowledgment, a tree bowing to a knowing wind.

A faint rustling rippled through the night, too purposeful to be natural. Kagome stiffened defensively, body tensing automatically as she dug her nails into Miroku's arm. A twig cracked, and Kagome exhaled, "_Now!_"

The two children tore through the trees, faces tucked into elbows as branches whipped across their forearms. Clothes ripped and rent loudly, screaming for the fear that the children couldn't voice, tearing like the reason that detached itself from instinct. Innumerable lines of rising red appeared on skin, lost to sight in the blur of green and gray and black and blue. Soundless screams erupted into the night, heavy breaths of exultation for the freedom that only flight could bring. Fear fell away like the fabric on their bodies as an orange glow burned away the shadows of the forest. The children bolted towards the light, panting frantically, hope stamped on one bleeding face and trepidation on another. With a roar of victory both flying bodies crashed out of the tree line, stumbling at the change in momentum as they skidded to a halt. Miroku's jaw dropped in shock as he took in the scene in front of him—his home, his city, his entire life withering away in an inferno, crumbling to ashes before his eyes. Furious orange tongues of flame licked at the ground, glowing black umbrellas billowed upwards and outwards and sank as they drifted beyond the circle of fire. He took a step onto the scalding ground, hypnotized by the play of the consuming, dark light. Another one, and one more, each step falling faster than the one before it till he was sprinting towards the gates of the main city. Vaguely he heard someone call his name, but he ignored the voice, annoyed. Why wasn't the castle getting closer? His feet were moving, but the ground seemed to be moving with them. He was panting, his breath seemed to unravel in polluted tendrils till his form dissolved into toxic fumes of black, black smoke.

Kagome shouted till she was hoarse, hopping from one foot to the other as the heated sand scorched the soles of her feet through her shoes. The fire glanced off her eyes, staining them a glowing, glaring red. Her left hand was fisted tight in Miroku's sweater, now so torn that it resembled the bark of a rotting tree.

"Miroku! _Miroku! Stop!_," she screamed, eyes streaming as the noxious smoke stung them. Miroku kept walking, straining against her hold, his hypnotized strength almost wrenching Kagome's arm from her socket because she refused to let go. She gritted her teeth and dragged her feet, she dug them down into the burning earth to anchor herself when Miroku began dragging her with him. Something exploded nearby, everything was exploding, but Miroku kept walking and Kagome went with him. A shower of cinders scalded her skin, one landed in her hair and started smoking. Frustrated, angry and more than a little worried, Kagome tightened her grip till her knuckles were white and pink half-moons appeared on her skin where her nails dug into her palm. Still Miroku kept going, and Kagome, exhausted now, stumbled along with him. Smoke, gray clouds of embers and pain, pulled them into its suffocating embrace. Finally, overcome, Kagome slid to the feverish earth, fingers still gripping Miroku's sweater in unconscious anchorage.

Miroku walked as though in a dream. Blocks of stone and flaming wood fell, fell to miss. Untouched and seemingly untouchable, he drifted aimlessly among the burning streets of what he had once called home. Why was he here? There was nothing but death here, not even screams of pain to voice remnants of life. And yet something was nagging him. He had to find someone, but whom? Nameless, faceless figures swam in his mind, familiar yet foreign.

"_The girl, get the girl." _A low bloodthirsty chant rose above the crackling of the flames, and a cold pearl of sweat ran down his spine. Kagome. They wanted Kagome. From deep within, where the mind merges into instinct, a voice of reason yelled at him to turn around. Involuntarily he stopped dead in his tracks, alarm breaking through his daze. Once he blinked, twice, trying to rid his eyes of the black fumes that were now everywhere. He dragged an acrid breath into his lungs, choking as it burned his throat. Blind, he stumbled around wildly, unsure of which direction to take, unable to remember how he had gotten to where he was.

The chant was louder now, and somehow deeper too, like a prayer. Fear escalated into panic, and he broke into a run, mindless terror on pounding feet. Amid the trees in the forest of flames, a cool black hole opened into the night. Miroku raced towards it, jumping over beams and fallen dreams, and more than once something crunched under his feet and squelched as he stepped on it. Uncaring, not wanting to care, he did not pause to check. His home, now a blur of orange and red and pulsing yellow, breathed its last black breaths as he jumped clear of the hungry fire.

For a long moment he lay there on the unnaturally warm earth, shivering in the cold air. Cautiously he tilted his nose, afraid to inhale too much, his body still reacting to the smoke. Cool, clean and smoke free breaths greeted his lungs, and he pulled in the night air greedily through his nostrils. Coughing and spluttering, he expelled smoky gray tentacles from his mouth, trying to replenish his starved lungs.

Why was he here again? Miroku twisted his back to stare at the deadly dancing lights. A flicker of shadow, indistinct but out-of-place among the citrus flames imprinted on his vision, the blatant lack of color pushing red memories to the surface of his mind. Enemies. Foes. And they were after Kagome. He shot to his feet and took off into the night, heart hammering as he prayed desperately that Kagome was hidden and safe.

Kagome choked on her moan, head pounding to a beat that seemed disconnected with her body. Too warm. Everything was too warm. Red lights pulsed behind closed eyelids, hot colors that bloomed and died in time with the pounding rhythm in her ears.

"_Kagome, Kagome!_,_" _screeched a voice, annoyingly familiar. She lifted her limp right hand and flapped in the direction of the noise, hoping that it would fade away.

"Kagome! RUN!," came the voice again. This time Kagome tried to force her eyes open, groaning. Why the hell couldn't he leave her alone? One eyelid cracked open like a hatching egg, and suddenly Kagome sat up straight, blinking furiously.

Black and gray, the burnt out shell of land smoked, winking in and out of existence under the shifting clouds and moonlight. Kagome pushed herself onto her elbows, running her tongue over her teeth, tasting bitterness, and winced as her back cracked. Slowly she got to her feet, sighing as her stiff muscles stretched.

"Kagome YOU'VE GOT TO—_Oomph ,_" Miroku crashed into Kagome in his hurry and they both fell, Kagome flat on her back and Miroku right on top of her, face to stomach.

Kagome took in a deep, painful breath, and opened her mouth to yell at Miroku, but he scrambled up until he was standing over her. Clamping her mouth shut in surprise, Kagome yelped when he bent down and hefted her onto his shoulder, her feet flailing furiously in front of his face.

"Wha—," she began as he broke into a run, but Miroku cut her off.

"T-the people who s-started the f-fire-," he panted, leaping over charred trees. "They w-were after y-you."

Kagome stiffened in surprise. "What? How do you know that?"

"They kept chanting something like, '_get the girl_'," he gasped. A little more...

"It could've been any girl, you know," she pointed out. Miroku stopped and dropped her on her butt.

"_What the heck was that for_?" Kagome rubbed her sore rump and glared up at him.

"I'm trying to save you. I don't know _what_ they said, but somehow...," he trailed off for a second, reliving the fear that had gripped his heart. Swallowing drily, he said in a whisper, "I just know they were talking about you, okay? Trust me."

Kagome decided not to say anything. Miroku was hysterical, his eyes wild and bright in his flushed face—his cheeks were burnt too, and there were open wounds on his arms behind the tattered sweater. He looked frightened out of his mind,

"Let's go, come on," called Miroku, sprinting ahead towards the shore. Kagome looked behind her at the destroyed city, and beyond, where the forest now came alive in dancing garb—the fire had spread to the trees. Sighing, she ran after him. Nothing more to be looked at there, she thought wryly. Miroku stood facing the sea, his back straight and turned towards her. Kagome followed his line of sight, wincing mentally when she realized that the only way to get off the island was across the ocean. Feet sinking in the sooty sand, she scrambled her way to where Miroku stood and stopped about two feet behind him.

"What now?," she asked quietly. The fire was eating through the forest. It was only a matter of time before the whole island was engulfed in flames.

Miroku didn't respond immediately. He turned around and looked down at her, his face stony but worried.

"I don't know," he said, looking lost. "I don't know how to get across the ocean."

"So we just wait," Kagome stated flatly after a loaded moment, and plopped down on the sand. She squinted up at Miroku and said, "Sit down. Might as well be comfortable."

Miroku stared at her. Kagome shrugged.

"Maybe the fire'll die out before it gets to the beach," she said nonchalantly.

Looking at her incredulously, Miroku turned towards the sea and walked up the water-line, shaking his head and muttering something about idiot girls.

"What was that?" Kagome called out. "I can't get insulted unless I hear it, you know!"

A wave crashed over Miroku's feet and crawled up the shore to where Kagome sat. She scooted away from the water, glaring at the darker brown of the wet sand.

Miroku kicked off his shoes and threw them over his head so that they landed about ten feet behind him, right next to Kagome. Rolling his trousers up to his knees, he waded into the water—cautiously at first, but with rapidly increasing enthusiasm.

"I think I can swim to the mainland," said Miroku, suddenly excited.

"Yes, and I can fly to safety," she said sarcastically. "Are the raining shoes indication of your broken brain?"

"Shut up. I _know_ I can swim across the ocean," he snapped back. "_You_ can stay here and roast your toes."

Kagome opened her mouth to retort, annoyed, but snapped it shut almost immediately. A long shadow crept over her and ran into the starlit sand, painting it black. A cold, clammy fear settled in the pit of her stomach, chilling her, numbing her.

"Get out of the water, boy," said a low and musical female voice. The soft words shuddered through Kagome; she scrambled to her feet, grabbing a fistful of sand and spinning around violently.

Silhouetted against the orange glow of the falling kingdom, a woman stood tall and proud. Her hair was bound long and tight, like a suspended whip, and her frame was sharp, her curves angular. Severe but snug, encasing each limb to provide maximum mobility, her clothing resembled a great black sheath. But it was her eyes that captured Kagome's attention. Silver in the faint light of the stars, they blazed with a quiet passion, flashing dangerously. An aura of authority, of hidden power, emanated from the woman. She stood like a warrior, like a queen, like a person who knew what was going to happen and how to control it. Locking eyes with Kagome, whose limbs had turned to Sama, the woman smiled.

"I am Midoriko," she said. So delicately the sound slipped through her lips, like dewdrops from a leaf. Countless thoughts flitted through Kagome's mind at those words, innumerable questions: Who was she? What did she want? Was she a friend? Foe? Where did she come from?

"I'm Kagome," replied Kagome finally, settling for a safe response. Last names, she decided, were unnecessary in this situation. Her chin lifted a fraction, indignantly, when Midoriko's smile turned into a grin.

"Tell your friend to remove himself from the water, Kagome," she said, the laughter in her voice set Kagome's nerves on edge.

"Who are you?" she demanded. Something about this woman made her want to stand taller, dress nicer, look better. Kagome found that she intensely disliked the feeling.

Midoriko put on a look of affected confusion. "Why, I could've sworn I told you my name not two minutes ago!"

"You know what I mean," said Kagome sullenly.

Midoriko looked long and hard at the bedraggled girl standing defiantly in front of her. Kagome. She'd said that her name was Kagome. The girl was in no position to be making demands—one flick of Midoriko's wrist and both Kagome and the boy would be ashes on the wind. And yet, Midoriko was always one to admire courage, and she suspected that Kagome had more of that than she let on. Drawing her face into a familiar stoic mask she said seriously, "I think you know who I am."

Kagome blinked. Did she know her? True, the woman's voice was vaguely familiar, but nothing more solid than a fleeting wisp of memory registered on her mind. Frowning, she shook her head.

Rolling her eyes, Midoriko moved to the water's edge, gripped a stunned Miroku's collar and dragged him out of the cold ocean.

Eyes rounded and wide, Kagome gaped as Midoriko reappeared in front of her. Never, not even during the sparring matches between the knights, did Kagome see such speed. In the time that it took to blink her eyes, Midoriko had moved, grabbed Miroku and sped back to her original position. For the first time since the little yellow flower of flame had wandered into her field of vision, Kagome felt fear pool in her stomach, and she had to turn away from Midoriko's piercing gaze to settle a sharp pang in her temple.

Visions of a pale face flooded her mind, silver-gray eyes that blazed through the painful haze that had enveloped her thoughts. Blood and screams spun around in a red twister and she dropped to her knees, hands fisted tightly in her hair, trying to squelch the sudden storm of memories that had erupted in her head.

"_Who are you?" _she screeched, almost blubbering in anguish. She knew that face, _Midoriko's face_...

A cold clamminess settled in her hair and Kagome thought she was going to die. Blue, endless and pristine, replaced the chaotic visions. Instead of the calm that its monotony should have provided, Kagome was seized by an inexplicable panic. Panting, gasping, screaming in irrational fear, she curled up in a ball on the wet sand, crying terrified tears into it.

"I am Midoriko," Midoriko repeated quietly. And through the pounding in her head Kagome heard the words as though from a great distance, and everything went black...

Miroku stared in paralyzed horror as the shadow-clad woman placed a glowing palm on Kagome's head. Tendrils of brilliant blue energy floated into her hair, entwining in it, till both Kagome and the woman were illuminated with the light emanating from the glossy black nest.

He took a step back involuntarily when the woman—Midoriko, he reminded himself—leveled a knowing look at him. A shudder ran through his body, jangling his nerves, because in the gleam of the unearthly rays, Midoriko's eyes resembled twin blue-moons. She smiled at him, wolfishly, hungrily, teeth so white that it burned his eyes to look at them. Her left hand twitched on Kagome's head, and she slowly withdrew it, like a predator reluctantly relinquishing the hold on its prey. Miroku quaked inside, but steeled himself against his terrified instincts. Throat dry and scratchy, he whispered, "What do you want?"

And just like that, as though the words had shattered the spell, the light disappeared, receding into the center of Midoriko's now upheld palm. Suddenly unsure of whether or not he had seen what he thought he had, Miroku blinked rapidly, and ground the back of his hand into his gritty eyes.

"Close your mouth, boy, we have places to go," said Midoriko briskly, ignoring his question. Only then did Miroku realize that his mouth had been hanging open. He shut it and nodded dumbly.

Midoriko sighed as Miroku's gaze drifted to Kagome's cowering form. The girl was still sniffling, but the horrendous wailing had ceased. How long it had been since she had dealt with children? She could not remember. Well, that wasn't necessarily true, she corrected herself. She _could_ remember if she tried, but she did not care to. All she wanted was to get off the devil-damned island before they were all consumed by fire. Personally she couldn't care less about the flames, but she knew that the children, especially the boy, would be unable to withstand the heat. Again she let out a long suffering sigh and said in a bored voice, "The girl will be fine."

Again Miroku nodded, his lips bulged as though he was running his tongue over his teeth. Midoriko tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to spit out the words. The muscles in his throat and shoulders grew taut as he swallowed.

"Stop chewing your words, lad, tell me what you want," she snapped. A spark of anger ignited in Miroku's eye and he opened his mouth to retort. Midoriko shot him a warning glare; he bit back his response and said politely through gritted teeth, "Please, but where are we going?"

For the first time since she had laid eyes on the boy, Midoriko entertained a kind thought for him. So he wanted to know where they were going. Not bad, she thought. She was surprised but pleased that the kid was thinking of the situation and not groveling about the girl. And he could control his temper. Not bad at all.

"To the mainland," she nodded towards the stormy sea. "We are going to visit the kingdom of the Western Lands."

Something in the way she said the name bothered Miroku. The sea roared as though in response to an unspoken challenge, the waves crashing angrily on the shore. A muffled whimper reminded him of Kagome's presence, and he looked at Midoriko quickly before hefting Kagome onto his shoulder. Midoriko raised a questioning eyebrow, but turned her back on him without saying anything.

Suddenly the earth rolled, and something exploded in the orange background. So loud was the noise that the air around them seemed to detonate, shock-waves rippling through the night. Miroku pitched forward, narrowly avoiding falling on his face. Midoriko had already moved to the shoreline and was standing with her legs spread apart and bent at the knees, as though she was about to do a back flip. The strange blue light was dancing about her hands again, but this time it shot out towards the water in a concentrated beam. Miroku gaped, wondering again who the woman was and why she wouldn't tell them anything but her name. As he mused, staring at the surreal scene in front of him, a heat wave crashed over his back, painfully startling him. Looking back over his free shoulder, he took in the sight of his dying homeland and whipped his head back to the sea. He broke into as fast a sprint as he could manage with Kagome's added weight, bolting over to where Midoriko stood, the flames hot on his heels.

She didn't acknowledge his presence. Her frame was shaking with the effort of channeling the light. Miroku was about to tell her that the fire was almost up to them when Midoriko clapped her hands together, banishing the mysterious beam. A single bead of sweat ran down her face and she flashed him a breathless smile.

"_Now_ we leave," she panted, turning to the sea. Miroku's jaw dropped in shock as he followed her gaze. Where once the water swirled and raged, now lay a path, about twenty feet wide, as smooth as ice. He ran his eyes along the transparent length of the glassy road, which curved and dipped under the horizon line. Beneath the slate gray surface, the currents were frozen in mid-motion, streaks of white and whirling gray were painted on the underside of the ice-like water. Beyond the suspended bubbles and foam, like a patterned sapphire Sama, the sea gave way to unending depths of midnight blue that faded into nothingness. This woman had stemmed tide, had stopped the unstoppable ocean. Again, the unnatural feeling that he was in the presence of a superior being washed over him. Tearing his eyes away from the still black depths, he breathed, awe-struck, "What_ are_ you?"

"I am Midoriko," she said yet again, smiling at the astounded look on his face. The fire lent her silver eyes a manic orange glow. "I am Midoriko, the time priestess."


End file.
